You'll never leave!
by Angel Sacrifice
Summary: The Buffy folks discover a second Hellmouth! It's in a remote English town, named Royston Vasey... Read & Review!
1. Chapter 1

Buffy the vampire slayer/ League of Gentlemen crossover.  
  
BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. The League of Gentlemen belongs to Jeremy Dyson, Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith. Nothing belongs to me except the story itself. Read and review!  
  
A/N: Chances are if you're in America you wont have seen this programme at all. So, I think it is my duty to inform you before you read it that this is a somewhat disturbing and weird comedy. But it's hilarious too!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One: You'll never leave!  
  
  
  
It's been so quiet around here lately." Buffy said, her mind considering not too optimistic possibilities. "I wonder why?"  
  
"It's nice…" said Willow, but from the tone of her voice there was obviously a "but" coming.  
  
"But it's *never* a good sign." Xander finished. Buffy nodded.  
  
"I'll mention it to Giles tonight." she said, hoping that her worst fears, just for once, would *not* be confirmed.  
  
  
  
"It appears that the focus of the Hellmouth has… altered somewhat." Giles told them. "Oddly, I've checked all of my contacts here in California and all over the US, and I've heard nothing." Giles ran a hand through his hair, absently worrying that he might be going a little thin on top.  
  
"You're not checking the right places." Spike commented. "I think I know what's going on."  
  
"I suppose I could try them again, ask them for regular updates," Giles continued, "but I don't think there's anyone that can really help. Maybe I should call Angel?"  
  
"I could help." Spike said. Noone looked at him.  
  
"I don't know, Giles, is it really that bad that we need to drag Angel into this too?" Xander asked. Spike scowled.  
  
"Hey!" he shouted. "Are you all bleeding deaf, or have I become a mute to all but myself through some cocked up spell by that witch? I can *help* you bloody morons. Though why I'd want to is beyond me."  
  
"Huh?" Buffy looked up, giving first Spike, then Giles a quizzical look.  
  
"What do you mean?" Giles asked Spike, who dipped a triangle of toast into his blood and continued.  
  
"I *mean* what I said." Spike replied. "The focus of the Hellmouth's altered, you said so yourself. That's happened, what, once in the entire history of the modern world? Once that I know of anyway, about 70 years ago. Lots of demonic activity began happening elsewhere, from a kind of secondary Hellmouth thing-me-bob. Not in America, I might add."  
  
"Now hold on, I was educated as a watcher," Giles said, "and I was never told anything about the veracity of that theory. The idea that there could be another Hellmouth…"  
  
"I was *there*." Spike pointed out. "I saw the place, it was hell on earth. Brilliant fun, all sorts of nasties feeding off the mortals, killing little fluffy creatures, things like that. And the watcher's council, if they'd even known, wouldn't go telling it around every low level watcher in training, would they?"  
  
"But if that's the case, and if this is just recurring… there's nothing we can do. It's not as if we can just up and leave over a theory…"  
  
"We have to." A familiar voice came from the doorway.  
  
"Angel!" Buffy exclaimed, and then quietened herself, not wanting to appear too excited. "Come in, please." Willow rolled her eyes.  
  
"Hey." Angel greeted the room, looking slightly nervous. He really wasn't fond of crowds. "It's good to see you all again. But… this is important."  
  
"I see." Giles said. "Well, we should make arrangements, then."  
  
"Oi!" Spike complained, "You respect his word more than mine?"  
  
"He *does* have a soul, Spike." Willow pointed out.  
  
"Most of the time." Xander muttered, and Spike grinned.  
  
"Oh, but remember when he didn't?" Spike said. "That was a laugh. Wasn't it, Rupert?" Giles' face fell, eyes bleak and hollow with the memory of Jenny. Angel glared dangerously at Spike. "Sorry," Spike said, "I keep forgetting that's a sore point between the two of you. So, Angel, did you kill her slowly?"  
  
"I can't believe you haven't staked him yet." Angel told the group, ignoring the question.  
  
"Well surprisingly enough, they're not all violent Irish bastards, like someone I could mention." Spike retorted.  
  
"I think I speak for everyone in the room when I say – point and laugh at the chipped demon!" he said sarcastically.  
  
"Better than a bleeding gypsy curse, Mr 'I killed people, please pity me'."  
  
"At least the love of *my* life didn't run off with a chaos demon."  
  
"Two words, Angel; Riley Finn!" Spike delivered the words with scorn. Riley cleared his throat and looked away uncomfortably. Spike grinned. "You call that more dignified than a slimy thing with antlers?" Angel looked at Riley.  
  
"I…" he looked at the wall, then at the floor. "I'm not here to insult anyone." He said. "Not even you, Spike. I'm here to tell you that we need to go… there. We might even be there some time."  
  
"Where?" Buffy asked.  
  
"The other Hellmouth, of course." Spike told her. "Small town in the north of England. Goes by the name of Royston Vasey." Angel shuddered almost visibly.  
  
"Lets go then." Buffy said, smiling the cheerful smile of the unknowing…  
  
  
  
Buffy, Riley, Giles, Anya, Xander, Angel, Spike and Willow all walked over the brow of the hill in the dark. Seeing a large rock, Anya sat down on it. Those without Slayer or vampire strength were all very tired now. "That's it, no more walking." Anya declared. Giles sat down too, rubbing his left ankle. Willow and Xander followed suit, and Riley eventually joined them.  
  
"I second that." Xander said. "Ten miles without snacks nor water is not the life for me."  
  
"You know, back in the day, they didn't have cars." Angel said. "I remember when I was your age, 10 miles was just…" he trailed off, realising how old he sounded.  
  
"Humans these days are sissies." Spike agreed. He might have been a bit of a sissy as well in his life, what with the poetry and his desperate devotion to one woman after another… but he could at least *walk* a few bloody miles.  
  
"Well, this sissy wants to call a cab." Xander said.  
  
"Do you really think there will be a taxi service, at night, this far out in the middle of nowhere?" asked Giles, having to speak his last words slightly louder over the sound of an approaching car engine. A cab. It stopped beside them, and it was pink with the writing "Babs' Cabs" on the side.  
  
"Need a ride, loves?" came the voice from inside, throaty and hoarse, sounding neither masculine nor feminine, with a northern English accent. Willow forced a smile, the vampires frowned, Xander clung to Anya's arm; he had an uneasy feeling about all of this.  
  
"Yes, actually." Giles said. "Could you take us to Royston Vasey?"  
  
"I can only fit four of you back there." Babs replied. "Is that okay?"  
  
"I'll walk." Buffy volunteered. "Spike and Angel will be ok. And… um, you think you can manage a few more miles, Riley?"  
  
"Sure." Riley replied, his face set grimly. "I'll make it."  
  
"Alright then, see you guys layer." She waved as they were driven away in the pink taxi.  
  
  
  
Noone had dared to say anything for a few minutes, being afraid to start up the cab driver on the detailed story of his/her botched sex change operation again. Xander had almost been physically sick. They drove past the sign to the town.  
  
"Royston Vasey – you'll never leave!'" Xander quoted. "Why does that sign not fill me with hope and optimism?"  
  
"I wouldn't worry too much, Xander." Giles said. "Chances are we'll be going back very soon, I don't think Spike's theory is correct, and I really don't see why Angel supported it."  
  
"Oh, you mean about this place being upon the mouth of hell?" Anya asked. "That's true."  
  
"It's what?" Xander asked, horrified.  
  
"It's on a hellmouth, not so active as the one in Sunnydale, but it's a definite hole of evil and depravity." Anya informed them cheerfully.  
  
"That's right, love." Babs confirmed. "She's got a point about our town, her. But all that aside, it's a lovely little place."  
  
"Er… yes." Giles said.  
  
"It's not so far fetched, I mean Sunnydale's a nice place during the day." Willow pointed out.  
  
"It's a quiet little isolated British town." Xander said. "How bad could it be?" Giles shook his head and looked out the car window, with an expression of utter dread.  
  
  
  
Spike and Angel walked in silence. Silence only occasionally broken by intervals of violent argument that threatened to turn into fighting. "Local shop." Spike pointed out. "We could pop in, get a street map or something. Plus I need more fags."  
  
"I don't recommend it Spike." said Angel.  
  
"You also don't recommend killing humans." Spike said. "Frankly, Angel, your recommendations suck."  
  
"Ok, go in there then, by all means." Angel told him. "I'll just keep walking on without you, because I doubt you'll come out alive."  
  
"What, there's demons?" Spike asked. "You do remember that those are the things I *can* kill, right?"  
  
"Look, Spike, there are two half breed Belrus in there, and their mutant son. I went in there last time I came, and they almost killed me. If you want to risk your life for a packet of smokes, then go right ahead."  
  
"Ok, ok." Spike grumbled. "Next shop we come to though, definitely."  
  
"Addict." Angel called him.  
  
"Poof."  
  
"Immature brat."  
  
"Patronising wanker."  
  
… the argument continued long down the road.  
  
  
  
"Ok Riley," said Buffy to her exhausted looking boyfriend. They had fallen a little behind the vampires due to Riley perhaps being not as fit as he made out. "This store should still be open, it's only 8pm, lets check it out."  
  
"I thought shops in Britain closed early." Riley said, sinking down to sit on the stone wall. His legs ached. The Initiative had been perhaps too lax on this traditional kind of military training. However, he disliked showing weakness in front of his girlfriend.  
  
"Well, it *looks* open." Buffy said. "And can a shop this near a Hellmouth afford to be closed and losing business at night?"  
  
"Good point." Riley agreed. "Hostiles need their supplies too, I guess. Lets go in, I could do with something to drink." Buffy hauled him up easily and helped him walk in. The shop was dimly lit, musty and cluttered. The sign on the door had definitely said "open" but there was nobody to be seen inside.  
  
"Hello?" Buffy inquired at the empty counter. "Anyone there?"  
  
"I don't think there's –"  
  
"Yes?" came a loud female voice from directly behind them. Both Riley and Buffy almost jumped out of their skins with shock. A woman stood there, short, fat, with round glasses, an unflattering old dress and a scarf around her head. "Can I help you at all?"  
  
"God!" exclaimed Buffy. "Oh, uh, good. I mean, can I have… 2 bottles of water, please?"  
  
"Are you local?" asked the woman, leaning slightly towards Riley.  
  
"No, we're from California." Buffy said.  
  
"I'm from Iowa, originally." Added Riley, trying not to let the appearance and manner of the woman get to him.  
  
"This is a local shop, for local people," the woman said. "There's nothing for you here!"  
  
"You can't sell us water, just because we don't live nearby?" Riley said. "But that's ridiculous! You have water; we're thirsty and have money. Look, it's all changed to British and everything."  
  
"Did you come by new road?" she asked, face in an expression of curiosity and fear.  
  
"We walked." Riley said, somewhat bitterly. "We walked *miles* dammit, can't you just help us here?"  
  
"Riley…" Buffy said, attempting to quieten her boyfriend down.  
  
"Hello, hello, what's going on, what's all this shouting, we'll have no trouble here!" said a man, walking through the door behind the counter. He was taller than the woman, wearing glasses, with a similarly unusual face, presumably her husband.  
  
"Edward, help, they threaten us!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Who are they, Tubbs? Are they local? Do we know their parents?"  
  
"No, they come from the new road, they are strangers! They covet our precious local water." She huddled in close to Edward's side.  
  
"Look, fine. If you can't give us anything to drink then we'll go." Buffy said.  
  
"They are devils!" exclaimed Edward. "Devils who speak in foreign tones! Their lips are stained with strange unnatural putrification."  
  
"Uh… what?" Riley asked.  
  
"I think they mean our accents." Buffy told him.  
  
"Well, we're American." Riley said to the man. "What do you expect?" Edward and Tubbs recoiled in horror.  
  
"Strangers from the new world," Edward said, "witches and wizards they are, with hearts as black as the night itself! Get thee from our local shop and never darken our door again, you evil creatures!"  
  
"Hey!" Buffy said. "I'll have you know I'm the one who kills those evil creatures you hate so much."  
  
"Don't bother them, Buffy," said Riley, looking quite shaken, "lets just go." Buffy opened her mouth to reply, but then heard a roaring sound from above them, through the ceiling.  
  
"What was that?" she asked, quietly and calmly.  
  
"David." Tubbs said, and smiled. "Oh, Edward, could we send them up to play?"  
  
"No no, Tubbs, just the young fellow." Edward said. "The no-tail shall be a bride for our David instead."  
  
"The *what* shall be *what*?" Buffy asked, eyes wide with disbelief.  
  
"No way, pal." Riley said. "But I'll be happy to tackle your demon for you."  
  
"Good," Edward grinned. "David likes company…"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Will they ever leave? Will Riley survive? (heh, well, you know me…) Will they all end up with nosebleeds? Well you'll just have to wait and see… 


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy the vampire slayer/ League of Gentlemen crossover.  
BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. The League of Gentlemen belongs to Jeremy Dyson, Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith. Nothing belongs to me except the story itself. Read and review!  
CHAPTER 2  
  
Spike sighed heavily. He was sick of this place already. What sort of self respecting Hellmouth was all shut up before midnight anyway? *Only* in Derbyshire, he thought to himself, shaking his head. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he detected movement in the trees...  
  
"Do you have the Special Stuff?" the bearded man whispered to the other man.  
  
"Yes, it's here. It's all here."  
  
"Good." They exchanged packages. Then each headed their own way. Interesting. Spike was now curious to know what was going on. Especially because he could smell something *very* tasty in the air.  
  
"Evening." Spike suddenly appeared just before the bearded man, who jumped about a metre in the air.  
  
"Argh!" he exclaimed. "Who are you? What do you want?"  
  
"Oh, nobody. Just arrived in this town, and cottoned on to some sordid dealings going on between you and the bloke back there." Spike told him, then sniffed. Mmm. Smelt good.  
  
"I don't have to tell you *anything*." The man said. "Now go home!"  
  
"What's the Special Stuff?" asked Spike, grinning when the man's face turned to utter shock.  
  
"How... how do you know about this?" he asked, frowning. Spike shrugged.  
  
"Got blood in the parcel there?" he asked, then pulled it out of the man's shaking hands. He ripped it open, and took a deep breath. Blood! Yes! Oh, urgh... no.  
  
"Give that back!" The man demanded. Spike threw it at him.  
  
"There's something wrong with your blood there, mate," Spike said with an expression of disgust on his face. "You can *have* it."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with it." The man told him sharply, then considered. "Why do you say that, anyway?"  
  
"It's blood, I could tell that from over there, and it's human and everything... but it's also got something in it, like a disease. Sort of thing that could put a guy off his food."  
  
"You know too much." the man glared at him.  
  
"I know what blood's about, mate." Spike retorted. "And that's not your average sort of blood." The man eyed him curiously.  
  
"What's your name, lad?" he asked.  
  
"Spike." The vampire replied. "Yourself?"  
  
"The name's Hilary Briss." The man replied, shaking his hand. "I'm the local butcher."  
  
"Oh..." Spike smiled charmingly. "Glad to make your acquaintance. You know what I always say about butchers? Greatest blokes in the world."  
  
"What are you after?" Hilary asked suspiciously. "You can't have none of the Special Stuff."  
  
"Oh, please." Spike rolled his eyes. "Not interested. I will probably be a regular customer of yours, but not for *this*. No offence, mind."  
  
"None taken." Hilary said. "Actually, that's not bad news. We've a job opening came up, due to one of our employees... disappearing. Man like you with a good nose for your meat products, who's not likely to be dipping his fingers into the Special Stuff on the sly... it's ideal, ain't it?"  
  
"You'd think so..." Spike said, a worried look on his face. Yes, he would love this job. But there was a complication.  
  
"There's a slight complication." Hilary's words echoed Spike's thoughts. "Due to the way the shifts work out now, you'd be on the night shift. Is that a problem?"  
  
"No problem at all." Spike said. In fact, it solved the problem. He grinned. "When do I start?"  
  
Xander knocked on the door that the woman had told him to come to. He'd met her in passing, and had mentioned he needed accommodation for himself and a friend. She'd instantly offered a place to stay at their family home. He'd been unable to say no, but it had concerned him slightly when she'd occasionally called him Benjamin by mistake.  
  
"Hello?" The man at the door looked condescendingly down upon Xander and Anya. "What do you want?"  
  
"Your wife told my fiancé that we could stay here for a short time." Anya spoke up. "We need a place to live until we find our own accommodation."  
  
"Oh really," the man said, "well I'm Harvey Denton, and my wife is Val. You'll have to be aware that there are rules in this house..."  
  
"Absolutely." Xander said. "Rules obeyed, check, done. Thanks a lot, this is a real favour you're doing us."  
  
"Oh... not at all, young fellow, not at all." The man allowed them to walk in.  
  
Anya sat back comfortably on the sofa. Not a bad place at all. Warm, well-furnished, and meticulously clean and tidy. Xander was being given the tour of the house, while she was allowed to watch a film. They'd mentioned something about young women being less of a disorderly threat. Oh well, that was ok by her. Eventually Xander came through, and fell into the couch beside her, eyes glazed with fear.  
  
"This is a bad, *bad* place, Anya." He said, staring straight forwards. "We have to leave."  
  
"But... you were the one who insisted we came here." Anya complained. "And now we do get here, you just want to go? And its warm and comfortable here, unlike outside."  
  
"You don't know... those people..."  
  
"Are they demons?" Anya asked. "I don't think they are. Are we in any immediate danger of death from either of them?"  
  
"Well, no... but -"  
  
"No buts!" Anya cut him off, and looked back at the TV. "We're staying, and you'll be quiet, or... or I'll figure out something I can do to you *without* my powers." Xander opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing, and closed it again. Harvey walked into the room, and Xander shuddered beside her. Anya smiled at him.  
  
"Good afternoon, Mr Denton." She greeted him. He smiled and waved at her.  
  
"Val?" he called his wife through. "One of my toads appears to have gone missing. Have you seen it?"  
  
"Sorry, dear." She said, coming through and giving him a simpering smile. "I'll look for it right away."  
  
"Is this it?" Anya asked, lifting a toad she'd seen on the floor. "I was wondering what the little critter was doing down there. Siberian river toad, right?"  
  
"No, it's a Mongolian, actually." Harvey informed Anya.  
  
"Oh, yes, of course. The ridges on it's back are purple, not red." Harvey nodded, impressed. Xander elbowed her. "What?" she muttered, "I live for eleven hundred years and I'm not allowed to learn anything?"  
  
"I must say, it's rare to come across one who shares my interests." He told her. "Why don't you come and see the rest of my collection?" Anya shrugged. It was only polite, after all.  
  
"Hmm, you sure have a lot." She commented, looking over the staggering number of toads in small plastic tanks. She opened one, and took it out.  
  
"Be careful!" he warned. "That's one of my new toads." She looked it over, critically.  
  
"I'm sure I've seen one like this before," she said, "but I don't know where. I think it's one of the race bred by Myllog 800 years ago, but I can't be sure. It'd be pretty cool if it was though, I mean - think of the power it could have developed through the generations..." she mused.  
  
"Yes, well I don't go in for all of that mythology and folklore myself." He said, disdainfully. "I tend to think that's all wishy washy girly nonsense." Anya frowned.  
  
"I think in a town like this, that's a dangerous attitude to have," she told him bluntly. "Do you *know* how many half demons I saw, just the other day? It's not surprising there are so few vampires here, they'd have nothing to eat!"  
  
"Vampires! Demons! Indeed. I expect you'll tell me next that these demons are living amongst us and working respectable jobs?" he commented sarcastically. Anya glared.  
  
"They are too!" she insisted. "Ooh, I wish I had my powers back, I'd show you soon enough who's..." she broke off, as she was sucked through some rip in the fabric of dimensions. Oh, fantastic. What now?  
  
"Anyanka." D'hoffryn greeted her. Anya folded her arms and said nothing. What was going to happen now? They'd already turned her mortal, wasn't that enough punishment? Or was it to be straight to hell now?  
  
"What is it?" she asked, boredly.  
  
"It would appear that you have... called upon the correct powers. Now, while I stand by my decision of making you mortal, I am impressed in your resourcefulness. Congratulations. You have proved your worth, and earned the right to hold your power centre again."  
  
"I... what?" she asked, wide eyed with disbelief. "You're giving me my powers back?"  
  
"That is correct." D'hoffryn said. "Now, take this, and return to earth, Anyanka - patron saint of all women scorned."  
  
"Thank you." Anya said, and took the green pendant from him. "I will serve vengeance well. You... can't know how much I've missed this."  
  
"Oh, don't thank me. Thank yourself, for discovering the Myllog toad, the last remaining of its kind."  
  
"Last of its kind... therefore infused with all of the energy multiplied through the generations throughout the years concentrated into one being..."  
  
"... Of course!" By the time she had exclaimed the last two words, she was back on earth in the exact moment she'd left it.  
  
"Did you just threaten me?" he asked. Anyanka fingered the pendant, and shook her head.  
  
"What I meant was, if demons did exist, they'd probably be capable of finding employment in the mortal world. Hypothetically speaking."  
  
"Ah, alright then." Harvey said. "I was worried about you for a minute. Now, would you like to see some others?"  
  
"Maybe later." Anyanka said, walking out with a spring in her step. "I have to have words with Val."  
  
"Right, jobseekers." Pauline addressed the evening class, of which Giles and Angel were a part. Angel was seated next to a man who had introduced himself as Ross Gaines. Ross looked like an ordinary man who had been through a fair bit of stress. Giles was next to a younger, somewhat less intelligent man named Mickey. Mickey had stringy hair in a mullet style, bad skin, and worse teeth, and tended to sound a little like a monkey. "Today, we're going to be looking at places where *you* will not get employed." Pauline said to the group in front of her. Giles coughed politely.  
  
"Excuse me, but you don't know what our previous qualifications and work experiences are, how can you know where we will or won't be -"  
  
"Shut up, dole scum!" she shouted at him. Giles, fearful, sat back immediately with his mouth shut. Ross looked at her darkly and shook his head.  
  
"Right. Can anyone name a job that you need qualifications for?" she asked. "A job that is *beyond* any of your pathetic grasps." Mickey raised his hand and grinned eagerly. "Yes, Mickey love?"  
  
"Policeman!" he called out.  
  
"Yes! Policeman." Pauline wrote the word in large writing on her board. "Well done Mickey. Anyone else?" Mickey sat with an inane grin on his face. Angel raised a hand.  
  
"NASA technician?" he suggested. Pauline sneered at him.  
  
"Noone's *offering* you *that* job." She said, coldly. Angel shrugged.  
  
"Not just now. They might, though?" he smiled, trying to appeal to her sense of humour. This failed miserably.  
  
"I see we have another smart arse in the class, then." She said, face grim and embittered. "Don't cross me young man."  
  
"Young...man..." Angel echoed through gritted teeth. No part of that applied to him in truth. If only she knew, she'd shut up soon enough.  
  
"Don't let her get to you." Ross said, sympathetically. "She's a bullying cow, but she'll get her comeuppance." Angel absent-mindedly ran his tongue over his fangs. Yes, she would, one way or another.  
  
"You been here long?" he asked Ross.  
  
"Weeks." Ross said. "It's hell here, and she's got a very sad crush on that one there." He pointed to Mickey.  
  
"Tell me the truth, does anyone really get a job through this?" Angel asked, bluntly. Ross shook his head.  
  
"RIGHT!" Pauline addressed them. "You two are to sit at opposite ends of the class and *not* talk to one another, have you got that?" Angel looked up apologetically,  
  
"Sorry, I was just asking if..."  
  
"Don't talk back to me!" she exclaimed.  
  
"For god's sake you old hag," Ross glared at her, "why do you have to treat us like school children?"  
  
"Well maybe I wouldn't, if you didn't *act* like school children." Pauline hissed in reply.  
  
"That's it." Angel said, struggling to regain his calm exterior. "I'm leaving."  
  
"Sit down." Pauline ordered, staring grimly into his eyes. Angel looked around at the people, their looks of abject misery and despair, the hell that this woman was single-handedly putting them through. He'd killed demons for a thousandth of the horrific things this woman had done. Mental torture could indeed be as bad as physical, and he recognised *far* too much of himself in this woman for his comfort.  
  
"If you try to stop me leaving," he said, trying to keep his cool, "you will regret it. We're on a Hellmouth, there are all sorts of weird violent energy fluctuations and I can't be held responsible for my actions."  
  
"I've taken Judo classes." She sneered. "You think you can threaten me? Well, go on then. Go right ahead. Try and get out. You'll have to kill me before I'll let you..." CRACK. Angel looked down at his hands in shock. He had done it. Just like that. He'd snapped her neck. And everyone was now... cheering?  
  
"Fucking BRILLIANT!" called out a woman from the back. "Someone should have done that a long time ago!"  
  
"Yeah, good one Angel!" Ross agreed. "Maybe now we can get someone who can do the job properly."  
  
Angel frowned. He'd killed a human being. Where was the horror, the what-have-I-done regret, the torturous guilt? It wouldn't come. He just couldn't bring himself to feel bad about his actions. Oh well. He grinned at the class, and then walked out to dispose of the body. 


End file.
